Reno Hilton Color-Coded Threat Level Update

Please note that the Reno Hilton has revised the Color-Coded Threat Level from Off-White to Blue, White and Red. Some sort of clandestine message to the French, perhaps? Please make all necessary adjustments, and stay tuned, true believers.

He's Got Some 'Splainin' To Do

So apparently Bush is going to try to interrupt prime-time TV again tonight to try to sell an increasingly skeptical public on the merits of the War in Iraq. The speech starts in about half an hour and will be coming from Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, where the Prez is sure to get an enthusiastic response. I'm sure that this is being done because the Administration is sensing a turning of the tide on this issue, with disapproval of the way the war is being conducted approaching 60% in most polls. That's about as low as its possible for his disapproval rates to go; this country is so polarized, and the Republicans have so effectively 'branded' (to use an advertising term) themselves to so much of the population, that about 35-40% percent of the country is too psychologically and emotionally tied to the man and what he stands for to even allow the notion into their minds that he might ever possibly in some parallel universe make a mistake. If he comes to the podium tonight wearing a Doctor Doom mask and announces that he has placed a giant laser in orbit and is holding the entire planet hostage, most of that 35-40% will shrug it's shoulders and say "hey, you know, September 11."

I don't exactly know what to expect tonight, but I'll make a few guesses. There will be much showcasing of patriotic imagery and clean-cut, enthusiastic military faces, thus further encouraging the ridiculous notion that if you disapprove of the way Bush is doing his job then you must hate America and the troops. There will be many references to September 11, even though there is zero link between the attacks of that day and the war in Iraq. There will be not even the slightest hint that anyone in the Administration has gotten anything wrong, from the predictions that we would be hailed as liberators over two years ago to last week's assessment from Dick Cheney that the insurgency is in it's final throes. And finally, it will work; large numbers of Americans will see the flags, look at those fresh, enthusiastic faces, and think to themselves "how could I be such a bastard, hating the troops like that?", thereby providing Bush a small but significant boost in popularity. And things in that part of the world will go on just as they have for the last two-plus years.

Summer Solstice

I know it's a little late, but I wanted to share a couple of pictures. Mel and I went up to Pyramid Lake for the Summer Solstice last week. It was her first visit to the gigantic desert lake where the Truckee River ends, and despite the haze in the air from a far-away wildfire, we couldn't have picked a more perfect evening.

Trapped in the long shadow of Lake Tahoe, Pyramid Lake is virtually unknown outside of Northern Nevada. Perhaps this is fortunate, since the crowds that swamp Tahoe in the summertime are practically non-existent at Pyramid, and as this massive lake (approximately the same size as Tahoe) is entirely surrounded by Paiute Indian Land, it has also escaped the development that has in some ways become the scourge of Tahoe. This despite the fact that it's water is noticeably warmer and much better for swimming.

Pyramid has become something of a local favorite among Northern Nevadans over the years. Many even consider it something of a quiet refuge from the noise of the gaming industry and the tourist trade. It is so huge, and seems so bizarrely out of place in the deep desert of the Great Basin, exploding into view below you as you round a bend on the highway like the absolute biggest mirage you could ever imagine. No wonder we have such affection for it.

Someone who is a much better photographer than I am took the picture at the right. It's a shot of the massive tufa rock formation on the eastern shore. It was for this formation that the explorer John C. Fremont gave the lake it's name in 1844 when he became the first known person of European decent to come across. Still to this day the lake is so quiet and serene, I couldn't imagine a better place to watch the light of sunset paint the mountains in magical colors.

Melissa and I ate dinner, walked down to the shore, listened for coyotes and watched flocks of white pelicans skim the water in their silently dignified manner. All in all, it was a fantastic way to enjoy (and, in my quiet way, pay homage to) the longest day of the year.

Trump Needs $39.95 This Badly?

What exciting news! Honestly, I never dreamed it could happen to me.

I've received my own personal mass e-mail inviting me (ME!) to become a part of Trump University! What an tremendous honor. Finally, all my hard work is going to start paying off. I only wish I hadn't wasted four years earning a Bachelor's Degree and three years on a Juris Doctorate, plus several months studying to get licensed to practice law in two states.

See, all it really takes is $39.95 sent in to Trump University. But I'll let The Donald explain it to you for himself:

"Dear Friend, (Editor's Note: Donald Trump called me "Friend!" WOW!!!)

I would like to tell you about the recently launched Trump University. Trump University is something that is very special to me because I understand the value of a good education, and have always wanted to share my knowledge with others who also appreciate the need for education to get ahead. Over the course of my long and successful career, I have accumulated a vast amount of business ideas and experiences. To create Trump University, I have worked tirelessly to compile this wealth of knowledge and turn it into a curriculum of world-class, university level courses on every subject relevant to success in business and in life."

Sounds fantastic, eh? A real on-line university education from Donald Trump for only $39.95! What sort of moron would turn this down?

And what do you get for your $39.95? Again, The Donald:

"The knowledge gathered in these downloadable books, the Special Report, and the bonus DVD series, is worth a lot more than $39.95---it could be worth millions if you put this information to work for you. It's not often that someone gets so much for so little from Donald Trump. So why am I making this offer? Because I'm confident that after you read these books you will want more of the same kind of real-world education, and will enroll in Trump University courses."

AMAZING! Not one, not two, BUT THREE downloadable books! And as if that weren't already enough, he'll even throw in a Special Report, and a bonus DVD series! And you can order online, right now! Who would have dreamed that the world of opulence and wealth could be had so easily? It's practically stealing!

Of course, cynics (booooo!!!!) will say that Trump is behaving like a world-class sleaze, trying to squeeze just a few more pennies (which, one would think, he doesn't really need) out of his dwindling reality TV success by selling wild get-rich-quick fantasies and cheap crap to suckers, acting more like a two-bit scam artist than an industrial giant. But we future graduates of Trump University know better. God bless the internet, and God bless Donald Trump. Now where's my credit card number?

Why Don't These Guys Get Real Jobs?

I just had the most bizarre stroll down memory lane.

I don't know if any of you have ever run into the White Van scammers. They're a bunch of scummy guys, usually wearing trendy clothes, speaking So-Cal "brah" speak and about as subtle as rabid pitbulls. They drive around in these unmarked white vans pretending to be delivery guys or audio-speaker sales reps. If they see a guy who is young or youngish and looks like he might have money they'll approach him in a parking lot or at an intersection. It's always the same story--they have these speakers, see? They were shipped too many of them, or maybe they were supposed to install them but the buyer changed his mind, whatever. Anyway the bottom line is they just need to get rid of these things before heading back to the warehouse. Normally they're worth $1499--you want to buy them for $400? Oh c'mon, how about $350? There's an ATM around the corner, I'll just follow you there. You'd be an idiot to turn down a deal like this, brah!

Of course once you buy, you find out these supposedly "top of the line" speakers are cheaply manufactured crap, but how do you get a refund from some guy in an unmarked van? Check out Scam Shield's info on these guys to learn more.

I was approached by these guys while I was a law student in Spokane. This was over FIVE YEARS AGO! The story was exactly as related above--walking through a parking lot, a guy in a white van flags me down, he needs to get rid of these speakers, blah blah blah. I had heard of the scam and told him to go do something that is anatomically and physiologically impossible. He only got louder and more aggressive, so I just walked away.

Just today at lunch, it happened again here in Reno. It wasn't just an eerily similar occurrence, it was the EXACT SAME SCRIPT!!! Same unmarked white van, same come-on, even the "brah" himself looked sort of similar to the guy I ran into in Spokane all those years ago. I guess I look like as much of a sucker today as I did back then.

I'm dumbfounded. How can these a-holes still be getting away with this? And for God's sake, WHY DON'T THEY GET REAL JOBS?!?!?!

"911 Emergency, Your Pizza Should Be There in 45 Minutes Or Less"

Click here to read about an 86-year-old woman who called 911 twenty times in less than an hour to complain that a pizza place wouldn't deliver to her. She was ultimately arrested, of course. See what we in the criminal justice system have to put up with?

Joining the General's Campaign

You might notice the new banner on the left. Yes, I've signed on for the duration to the 110% heterosexual Jesus' General's latest campaing, Operation Yellow Elephant, or OYE for short. Click on the banner for more information. And no, don't thank me, I'm not a hero. I'm just doing my patriotic duty. It's like the General says, military recruiters have come up short for months now. Who's more likely to sign up than college Republicans? They're young, eager, and most of them demanded the Iraq war, gloated all five or six times the war has been declared won, and continue to insist that the majority of Americans who now believe the war wasn't worth it are wrong. Who is more likely to be chomping at the bit to go fight? They of all people are no doubt aware that supporting the troops needs to go a lot further than slapping a bumper sticker on the car. God Speed, General.

Cowboy Up!

Last night Mel and I made it out to the Reno Rodeo. It's going on from now until Friday, and thanks to certain media connections we were able to score free admission.

I've been to rodeos before (most notably the Omak Stampede in Washington, home of the infamous Suicide Race), but I'd forgotten what the sights, sounds, and smells (dear God, the SMELLS!) are like. Although I can't say I'm likely to ever be a real fan of rodeo, I can at least appreciate the difficulty and the physical challenge involved. Plus, something in me is sort of drawn to the way these afficianados cling so passionately to talents and competitions based on skills that really don't have that much practical application anymore. This is about a lifestyle--who cares if that lifestyle is something of an anacronysm? I certainly don't.

Me and Melissa "Buckle Bunny".

My only real complaint about the evening was the constant banter between the clown and the MC, which competed all night with the stadium jams being blasted through the sound system. The Clown and the MC both ran around the arena (or more accurately "rode" around the arena in the case of the MC, who didn't dismount from his horse the entire night) wearing headsets and exchanging wry comments and lame jokes. The jokes themselves had the worn feeling of vaudeville; though they worked hard at trying to make it sound fresh, you could tell that these were the same jokes they told last night and the night before and probably for years now.

Strangely, the comedy routines and stadium jams seemed only loosely choreographed to the rodeo events themselves, which were obviously taking place on their own schedule. The clown would be standing on the railings surrounding the arena, doing a faux strip-tease to the sound of blarring trombone music, when suddenly out of nowhere a mounted bronco buster would burst from a pen for his ride. Events in the arena seemed to be preceeding at times along two separate tracks, each track only vaguely aware of the other.

Melissa had a great time too, although she was obviously disturbed by the cattle roping competition. Seeing the calves getting jerked into the air by the neck and slammed to the ground was a little to much for her. Rodeos insist that their animals are very well treated, and this is almost certainly true for some animals, but I have to admit that I can't imagine those calves are having a good time. But she loved the Mutton Busting.


Above is the view from the nosebleed section of the Reno Livestock Events Center. Obviously, everyone but me got the "hat" memo.

Barb Visits The West; Pictures Finally Provide Conclusive Proof!

Barb, a long way from Alabama.


Rock, tree, water, earth and sky.


Me at the north rim of the Tahoe Basin.


At last, Melissa's computer is back on line, and I can finally dowload the pictures of my Mom and I hiking up to the Tahoe Rim on the North Shore. As you can see, it was a spectacular day, and at over 7,000 feet, still quite cool. We hiked to the overlook pictured and then went on for an hour or so until I started to get blisters and wish I wasn't so devoted to wearing Tevas. And don't even get me started on trying to cross lingering snowfields in sandals. Anyway, it was great having Mom out here for a few days, particularly because I think she's the only one in my family who loves the mountains anywhere near as much as I do. 

It Isn't Always Easy

I'm never quite sure how much I should write about my professional life in this blog. Talking too much about your work in such a public format can really come back to bite you in the butt, especially if you're a lawyer. On the other hand, if this blog isn't about me and what's going on in my life, then it's just another one of those gadfly snark-blogs that isn't about anything other than the author's contempt for everyone he considers dumber than himself, which is usually everyone on earth. My job is too much a part of who I am to be left out of this space entirely.

Sometimes my work can be very fulfilling, the sort of thing I can really be proud of. Other times, it can feel like a suckerpunch in the gut. Although I shouldn't and won't get into specifics, let's just say that yesterday was one of the latter times. Being a prosecutor is a very tough job, and the toughest part of it is knowing that if you screw something up, then someone gets away with a crime and it's your fault. Not your fault that he committed the crime--that's clearly his own doing. But the fact that he avoids punishment, that a victim is denied justice because of a mistake you made, that's something that sticks in your craw. You can't dwell on it, of course; this sort of work waits for no one, and if you sit around feeling sorry for yourself it only increases the likelihood that you'll make more mistakes. So you try to pick yourself up and dust yourself off, put it out of your mind, tell yourself that everyone makes mistakes and that the only difference is that your mistakes are writ large in a public forum because of the nature of your work. You try to motivate yourself with the thought that everyone stumbles sometimes, that the only real defeat comes from giving up, and besides you are still a professional with a job to do. But the inescapable truth is that when you take your duty to the public seriously and you make a big mistake that results in justice being denied, well, it just plain hurts. It hurts like a kick in the teeth and there's nothing you can do but try to learn from it.

No Peaches This Year

It looks like the mini-orchard at Custom Gardens won't be producing any peaches or apricots this year. This seems strange to me, since last year we had peaches growing thick as grapes, so numerous that they were crowding and stunting each other's growth. This year, nothing.

It is almost certainly a result of our miserably cold Spring and late frosts, or perhaps the ever-present winds have knocked off all the blossoms. I asked Ray why we don't seem to be doing well with stone fruit this year, and honest as ever he says "I have no idea." The rule of thumb is that one in three years is a good year for fruit in Nevada. This just isn't our year.

On the plus side, the strawberries are doing better than anyone could hope for, potatoes are growing well, and corn, melons and summer squash are starting to peek through the dirt. This is the strength of a diversified small farm, particularly in a treacherous climate like ours--even if one crop fails (like our corn did last year), you're just as likely to be having a banner year with something else.

Return of the Washoe Zephyr

The trend continues. Today in Reno was cold and windy, and the high was only 68. While that may not sound too bad, the Washoe Zephyr was at full blast today, and that made it feel about ten degrees colder despite the sunshine. For those of you who don't know (which is probably every single person who will ever lay eyes on this blog) the Washoe Zephyr is a particularly ferocious wind that blows in off the Sierra and flings anything that is not nailed to the ground into central Utah. Local folklore has it that Mark Twain coined the term during his stay in Virginia City in the 1860's, but that story is apocryphal; Twain simply noted that this was a name people used. He said the Zephyr "blows flimsy houses down, lifts shingle roofs occasionally, rolls up tin ones like sheet music, now and then blows a stage-coach over and spills the passengers".

The wind today had a definite feel of winter to it, the way the wind feels when it blows into your face down a snowy ski-run. The local news continues to shrug and talk about "yet another late-season storm." I'm just starting to wonder at what point we move from "late-season" storms and into "early-season" storms. I guess this year the seasons are going to go from Winter to Mild Winter to Winter again.

Speaking of things that never end, can I take just a moment to mention just how very, very much I don't care about the fact that Tom Cruise and that girl from Batman are engaged. I mean it, I absolutely could not possibly care less. I don't care if it's a publicity stunt, I don't care if it's yet another attempt on his part to deflect those persistent gay rumors, I don't care if they're more in love than any two people have been. I don't care about what monument they're being photographed in front of or where they hold the press conference to announce their betrothement or what furniture they're dancing on top of. I. Just. Do. Not. Care. So why even mention it, you ask? Because I resent the fact that I must hear about it everywhere I go. I resent having my intelligence insulted by the implication that I should find this interesting. In fact, I resent the entire cult of celebrity for which this new power couple is just the latest irrational obsession. If people want to waste their time pondering the mysteries of Tom-and-what's-her-name that's their business, but I'm tired of hearing about it.

There, the bitterness is out of my system, for at least ten or twenty minutes.

Comparing Opponents to Nazis is Stupid, But Stop Pretending It's More Than Just Bad Rhetoric

So another political figure has made another dumb Nazi reference. These sorts of stories are becoming as common a staple of the 24-hour news cycle as are stories about missing affluent white girls. This time it's Illinois Senator Dick Durban, who certainly should know better. He was trying to make a point about about Guantanamo Bay, and about how important it is for civilized nations to play by the rules, even in times of war. Unfortunately, he chose to try to emphasize his point about treatment of prisoners (or 'detainees' if you want to be PC) by referring to infamous totalitarian regimes, including the Soviets, Pol-Pot, and yes, the Nazis. Right on que, half the population immediately went into Fred Samford-style "I'm comin', Elizabeth!!!" fake heart attacks.

Why do people keep calling other people Hitler or Nazis? It's so stupid, nothing more than a lazy, inaccurate rhetorical device that lost whatever genuine shock value it may every have had decades ago. The mere presence of such a reference deflates credibility. Moreover, it ensures you of one thing and one thing only, and that is that no one will listen to the substance of your argument. They're only going to focus on the Nazi reference. Durban actually had some really decent points to make in his address, but instead of talking about whether a nation of laws should be treating people the way we are treating them in Cuba, we're going to have to spend days listening to right-wing talking heads bloviate about how Dick Durban should apologize. The Nazi reference becomes the story, because it's so much easier to have an opinion about that than it is to try to understand and apply a nation's obligations under the Geneva Convention. Any chance Durban had of bringing attention to this issue is lost. Granted, he probably wasn't going to be able to call much attention to the issue anyway, what with all the Runaway Brides and Michael Jackson Trials and Tom Cruise couch-aerobics and such, but you never know.

There's only one thing dumber than bringing up Nazis when trying to talk about a serious issue, and that's the feigned indignation and calls for public supplication that inevitably follow from anyone who can make political hay out of it. Look, I've been called nearly every name in the book in my day, and I don't care. You know why? Because 99 times out of 100, the only reason the person who calls you a Nazi or a Commie or a Commie-Nazi does so because he CAN'T THINK OF A GOOD ARGUMENT! Most of the time, labeling and name-calling are tactics used by people who would rather fit everything into categories that they believe they already understand rather than deal with complexity. If someone calls me a Nazi, that means either a) they don't know what a Nazi is, or else b) they don't know anything about me. Either way, why should I care?

Calling someone Hitler is moronic; there was only one Hitler, and thankfully he's been nothing but a pile of ash for 60 years now. But spare me the gasping and fainting and all the "I am shocked! Shocked!" rhetoric. It's just a convenient excuse to avoid the real issue.

30 Days

Morgan Spurlock--check out his show on FX next Wednesday if you have time. It's a shame that he's relegated to a basic cable channel that mostly shows old reruns of COPS, but the guy is entertaining and not afraid to address important topics. See the post below for more info.

Reports Of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

No, I'm not dead yet, I just haven't been able to find ten free minutes in the last week or so in which to sit down and blog. I'm sorry about the lack of updates, it's just been a crazy time with the new job.

My mom has come and gone for one of her annual or semi-annual whirlwind visits. Mom loves the West almost as much as I do, and when she comes to visit she usually wants to do nothing so much as hike up a mountain. She's where I get it from, I guess. Saturday we drove up to Brockway Summit and hiked up the Tahoe Rim Trail to what I consider to be the best overview of the lake, a small series of granite pillars on the ridgetop at the lake's south end. I know I promised pictures of her visit, but I'm not able to post pictures until Melissa's computer is fixed and I can download the photos off her camera. I'll have them posted as soon as possible.

Also of note is the fact that I finally saw the new Star Wars movie last week. My appraisal: It didn't suck. If that sounds like faint praise, it is. But the bar was set so low by Episodes I and II that I was just glad to have an entertaining story, something that doesn't further soil the memory of the original trilogy. The action was great, I liked General Grievous (he provided an ominous presence that was so completely lacking in the first two movies), Ewan McGregor is a great Obi-Wan, and it was neat to see how Darth Vader and the Emperor ended up the way they appear in the original trilogy. There were weaknesses, of course; the acting was wooden as ever, the dialogue was cringe-inducing in places, and the magnificent Samuel L. Jackson is still woefully miscast. Also, the whole thing kind of felt rushed in a strange way, so that I felt like a lot of my questions weren't answered--for example, why was General Grievous coughing so much if he's a droid? What exactly killed Padme? And I'm still not completely sure why everyone is fighting in the first place, something about a Trade Union of Sepratists, I don't know. A note to uber-nerds: I know you could write entire doctoral theses on the answers to these questions and I don't care. I'm not actually interested in discussing these issues. I'm just making the point that I would have enjoyed the movie more if a few things were explained a little bit better so that it even makes sense to people who aren't swimming in trivia about the movies.

In the realm of stuff that isn't completely made-up, I watched and enjoyed the premier episode of Morgan Spurlock's new series "30 Days" last night. Morgan, as you may remember, made the very memorable film "Super Size Me", in which he documents his own physical decline while eating nothing but McDonald's food for a month. Now he's taking the same gimmick (yes, it is a gimmick, but an entertaining and thought-provoking one) and applying it to other areas. In the premiere episode last night, Morgan and his fiancee-with-the-patience-of-a-saint Alex cut ties with their own successful lives and try to live on minimum wage in a strange city for 30 days. This is a great idea although of course it's been done already--see Barbara Ehrenreich's great book Nickel and Dimed. I'm all in favor of anything that calls attention to the plight of the working poor in this country, and after watching last night's premier episode one gains a real appreciation of the dilemma faced by those who are forced to toil for such inhuman wages (and despite what Rush tells you, it's a lot more than just teenagers on summer vacation and precocious Senior Citizens who work these jobs) when they must decide between, say, their own physical health and working so that the electric bill can be paid.

Of course, it's a valid criticism to argue that Spurlock and his fiance don't really get a true taste of the hopelessness faced by people working for slave-wages since they know full well that after a month it will be back to their comfortable lives as yuppie media darlings. But the point remains; it is a travesty that anyone who works an eleven-hour day (as Spurlock does during his month-long experiment) should have no option but to live so dangerously close to the edge.

Friday Notes

Week Two at my new job is complete. Though I'm enjoying my return to prosecution, I'm also starting to remember how intimidating the responsibility can be. The decisions we make really do affect people's jobs, relationships, and every other aspect of their lives. I can't really go into great specifics, but suffice it to say I'm reminded almost every day that prosecutors aren't simply professional advocates for the punishment of the more unpopular and uncooperative members of society; rather, we are the first line of the judiciary, a vital link between law enforcement, the judicial branch of government, and the people of the city that we represent. It's a serious responsibility, and one that I hope I can live up to.

Okay, enough shmaltz. On a personal note, I'm really excited that
Into The West is premering tonight on TNT. I've seen the first episode, and I can say two things about it; one is that I loved it, and two is that most people will not have the patience or the inclination to sit through a ponderous twelve-hour mini-series about the decades-long settlement and transformation of what is today the American West.

You see, I'm not just a Western history buff. I am in love with this country. I live here because after ten years of wandering the mountains and deserts and endless pine forests, it can still take my breath away. It's my own personal Holy Land, a place that feels sacred to me in a way that other places do not. I would happily watch every minute of this series, even if it were twice as long as it is. Most people are not like me, and will be bored silly within the first 15 minutes of sweeping vistas and digital buffalo herds. I, on the other hand, can hardly think of a better use for television.

My mother is currently visiting from Alabama, and tomorrow we'll probably head up to Lake Tahoe. Pictures should be coming soon.

Damn This Weather

I'm sorry, but that's all I can think to say. Damn this lousy, wet, freezing weather.

I don't mind winter. I'm a snowboarder. Heck, I was born in Minnesota. I don't mind cold weather on principle. But this is June. JUNE! The high temperature today was 54 degrees F. That's the average high for Reno in FEBRUARY!!! Worse yet, it rained constantly, a grim, drizzly, depressing Seattle kind of rain, not enough to force you inside but certainly enough to annoy you if you have to walk more than a block. I actually drove to work this morning despite the fact that it's only about four or five blocks. I just didn't want to be out in this mess any longer.

This has been the worst, most depressing Spring anyone can remember, at least as far as the weather goes. Every time we get thrown another cold snap I think to my self "This has to be it; it can't possibly get cold again after this. After all, this is Nevada, not the north slope of the Brooks Range." And yet I am proved wrong, over and over.

It just can't go on forever. A few weeks ago I posted a picture of the Sierra Buttes. Here's a better picture of what those mountains look like in summer. Seeing what they're supposed to look like this time of year makes me feel just a little better. I'm not giving up the faith.

The Sierra Buttes, northwest of Reno.

Mourning Doves

I saw a tragedy in the making on the way to work this morning. Two Mourning Doves were busily and apparently happily (I guess birds can be happy--I never really thought about it) building a nest inside the circular tube that extends around the red light of a traffic light at the intersection of First and Lake Street.

I love Mourning Doves. Their cooing on cool mornings always reminds me of my home in Alabama, where they are ubiquitous. I felt terrible for these birds because their fate could not be more clear. The city would never allow them to live in the light, because their nest completely blocks the red stop light from the view of oncoming traffic. So there these birds were, contentedly going about their nest building, probably anticipating the rearing of a brood of chicks as spring turns to summer, completely oblivious to the fact that at some point very soon some city maintenance worker is going to come along and casually pry their nest out of it's cove. All their hard work and anticipation will be unceremoniously destroyed, probably without a second thought. Their fate is cruel and certain, and they will never have any understanding of why this punishment is being visited upon them. But in the meantime they flit happily about, doing only what instinct tells them they must do, totally unaware that forces beyond their comprehension have doomed their efforts from the very start.

I suppose it would be overdramatic of me to suggest that there is a metaphor for our own existence in this little nascent tragedy that I witnessed this morning, but I have to say that there have certainly been times in my life when I could have associate with these ill-fated little birds. Hopefully, like me, they will learn what they can from a bad situation that is mostly not of their own making and find somewhere a little more hospitable for their next nesting project.

The Search For (Insert Attractive, Affluent Young White Woman Here) Is On! Exploitation At Eleven!

Of the many petty little things that have bugged me for some time (and what is the purpose of a blog beyond the publishing of self-indulgent, superior sounding rants), perhaps the most grating is the 24-hour news channel phenomenon of the Missing And Imperiled Attractive Young White Female. The latest is a young girl from Mountain Brook, Alabama who is currently missing in Aruba. Hopefully she will be found unharmed, but what I have to wonder is who exactly determines which of these cases get saturation coverage on Fox News--without fail Fox News is the worst offender when it comes to exploitation and sensationalism, although the other 24-hour news channels are catching up--and which ones join the thousands that are condemned to anonymity.

I was having my brakes checked today, and as luck would have it in the mechanic's waiting room I came across a notice that had been posted on the wall by the
National Center For Missing and Exploited Children. The notice listed 9 missing individuals of both sexes and various ethnicities. They ranged in age from 3 to 48, but most were teenagers. None of them had been missing longer than 6 months. Naturally I had not heard of any of them, and I'd bet a month's salary none of their cases has gotten any time on Fox News. Yes, some of these cases may be runaways, or people who have intentionally disappeared, or children taken by family members, but the point is that thousands upon thousands of people have gone missing in this country under potentially perilous circumstances. Why is it that we've heard of the pretty blonde 18-year-old from a wealthy Birmingham suburb who disappeared on a class trip to Aruba, but we haven't heard anything about Keyera Donte Davenport, an 18-year-old African American woman missing from Chicago for three months? I just picked her listing at random out of the thousands listed on the NCMEC website. At the risk of sounding like a cheap-shot artist, is Keyera's life worth less than the cute girl from the rich suburb?

I simply cannot believe that it is a coincidence that the sizeable majority of these "Missing!" cases that are splattered all over the news networks involve attractive young white women who come from fairly well-to-do families, usually with parents who appear sympathetic on camera. My point is not that people shouldn't be concerned about Natalee Holloway, the young woman from Mountain Brook. My point is that we should see the attention showered on these cases for what it is; a cynical attempt by news networks to fill the enormous maw of the 24-hour news cycle when they should be filling that maw with, well, news that actually affects the general public. You really can't blame the families--naturally they are always concerned first and foremost for the safety of the missing woman and will utilize any means that has even a remote possibility of aiding in the search. No, the blame must lie squarely with the media, who have obviously realized that exploiting these cases is a good way to fill time, elicit sympathy and garner ratings.

I know how heartless this sounds at first blush, but frankly these cases are not worthy of national media attention; they are tragic, yes, but they are tragedies that involve a relatively small number of people, much like a traffic fatality or an industrial accident, horrible events in their own rights that somehow never seem to merit saturation "team" coverage on CNN. On top of that, the thing always gets me about these cases is the fact that all the hand wringing and smarmy faux-concern from news readers never, ever seems to help anything. Honestly, how often is one of these women actually rescued from peril? Yes, there was that bizarre Elizabeth Smart case from a couple of years ago, but frankly there are too many strange circumstances and unanswered questions about that case for anyone to be able to draw any conclusions from it (Was she kidnapped or did she run away? Why are there different versions but no definitive facts about the "abduction" itself? Why didn't she just throw off that veil at some point and shout "I've been kidnapped!" at one of those parties her kidnappers took her to?). The hard truth is, when the media whips itself into a frenzy over these sorts of cases the end result is pretty much always either that the young woman is (sadly) found dead, or the whole thing turns out to be a put-on a la the "Runaway Bride." In the end, I can't imagine that all the media attention really does anything more than get in the way.

But there is no doubt that we will continue to see even more of these stories. I mean, why wouldn't the Fox News Channels of the world continue to circle these tragedies like vultures? These stories come complete with the fear-mongering already built in and are as simple and uncomplicated as news can possibly be. The lines between good and evil could not be clearer. Telegenic grieving parents, easy self-righteousness, none-too-subtle suggestions of white female sexual purity under threat--with qualities like these, who could possibly want to talk about news that actually affects the daily lives of the majority of the population?

Here's hoping ALL the missing and endangered people of this country come back okay, not just the pretty ones.

One Week In The Books

My new job is leaving precious little time for blogging, or anything else for that matter. The last few days' lack of postings should attest to that fact. Despite this I'm feeling pretty good about where things are heading. I really love the idea of being a prosecutor again.

I have done a job similar to this one before, or at least similar in theory. When I was just out of law school I took the only job I was offered, a prosecutor's position in a beautiful, rural corner of Washington state. Although I loved the location, I hated the job. This was mostly because of my boss, a bitter old hypocrite who was elected prosecutor on a "hang 'em high" platform, tried to micromanage everything, forced me to take unwinable cases to trial just so he could claim he was being tough on crime, wasn't above ordering me to do act in ways that I felt were borderline unethical, and basically made the job a living hell. After about eight months I decided I couldn't take it any more and gave him two months (that's two MONTHS) notice that I was leaving. Just out of spite he fired me the day before I was leaving. That's just the kind of a--hole we're talking about.

As I think back now, I feel like that initial experience with the practice of law was so bad that it took me two or three years just to recover from it. Only within the last year or two have I really started to regain my confidence and get back to the level I should be performing at. As for my new job, the feeling I have there is completely different from that of my first miserable experience in prosecution. After a week in my new position I am tired but confident. My co-workers seem to genuinely understand the concept of teamwork and cooperation. More than that, they seem to genuinely WANT to help me succeed, if for no other reason because they understand that my success is the office's success. I really like the atmosphere and have a good feeling about the future for the first time in what seems like an eternity.

A couple more things to update quickly:

I spent the morning out at the farm, which has turned into the kingdom of the butterflies. Earlier this year the small, black and orange butterflies called Painted Ladies that migrate through in the springtime got caught in a cold snap. Rather than continuing their journey to their normal breeding grounds in the north, they simply stopped and laid their eggs here in northern Nevada. Those eggs have now hatched with a vengeance. Every tree and bush at Custom Gardens is now literally blanketed in hundreds upon hundreds of butterflies. It's truly a sight to see. I'm just sorry I didn't have my camera with me today. This year looks like an extraordinary year for strawberries, and the corn, summer squash and melons are all doing well.

Also, Melissa and I went to see Cinderella Man last night. A good movie, if a mite "by the numbers." Russell Crowe plays Jim Braddock, an old-school Irish boxer from New Jersey who unexpectedly rose through the ranks during the Great Depression. Nothing particularly surprising takes place, but it is a pretty good version of what it is--a standard-issue sports movie. And it's interesting to recall a time when an Irish guy had a prayer of becoming Heavyweight Champion :-)

I'd write more now, but I'm really tired and I think I need a nap.

America's Prettiest Rest Stop

This is a picture taken from in front of a public rest stop on state Highway 20 between Nevada City and Interstate 80 in California. I think this might be the prettiest view from a rest stop in America. However, Melissa and Kelly wish it to be known that the actual toilets themselves were disgusting beyond description.

Foothill Vineyards

These are some pictures from a vineyard near Nevada City. The shadowy silhouette in the bottom picture is me. Above is Melissa and her sister Kelly.

New Addition To The Pest Patrol

At Custom Gardens, Bear has a new companion; a kitten by the name of Silver.